Kate Sweeney: “Growing up, I spent summers on my uncle’s dairy farm. He would often tell gruesome, exaggerated tales from his many years as a farmer. In this poem, I recalled his account of watching a young farmhand gored by a bull. This image haunted me throughout my childhood. After writing the poem, I shared it with some of my family. No one seems to remember the incident or my uncle’s story. Not even my uncle.”